


Zara Khwaab Sajaa De (Adorn My Dreams)

by aimtoplease



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Modern Setting, Architect Zayn, Doctor Harry, Dreams, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimtoplease/pseuds/aimtoplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Harry is in a coma and Zayn moves into his apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zara Khwaab Sajaa De (Adorn My Dreams)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoneFor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoneFor/gifts).



> hi! hello, welcome, i just wanted to thank my betas. you guys are amazing and thankyou so much for putting up with this! i love you! :) 
> 
> as for the prompt, i did go off a little, but i hope you still like it!

Zayn rarely dreams, if he does, he dreams in colour. An array of blues, greens, purples. Sometimes, depending how he was feeling, the colours would change. There would be raging reds, sunset yellows or lava oranges. Other times they would be dismal greys or sable blacks engulfing him, like he may drown. Zayn never sees people, he's never encountered a dream where the faces are visible. 

That's until he moved apartments.

The apartment was on the 18th floor, the height of it making Zayn dizzy but the place is lovely, homely. It's all one floor, which Zayn appreciates. The living area is spacious for him to lay his blueprints out on. The view immaculate; a vast view of the rooftops of London. The kitchen narrow and white, the bedroom fairly decent with a walk in wardrobe. He doesn't understand why the realtor was willing it to go for a lot cheaper than it was worth. Zayn knows houses, he knows the prices, he knows how much this apartment  _should_  have cost. But how can he complain when the it looks like this.

Trisha leaves Tupperwares in the fridge filled with food that can be heated in the microwave oven. Zayn loves his mother for it, she also brings him the various spices he knows so well and can't really enjoy food without them. She brushes her lips against his cheek, looking around Zayn's new home. She nods as if to give the house confirmation, that it is good enough for her son, not the other way round. Zayn's all settled in after a week of packing and unpacking, settling bills and payments. He's bone tired and really wants his mother to leave before it gets dark.

"Mum, go. Call me when you get home."

"I know, you know how to warm the Chicken Tikka up?"

"Yes, mum. Go. Dad's waiting." Zayn rolls his eyes, hugging his mother for the last time.

"Bye, sunshine." She smiles shutting the door.

Zayn sighs sitting down on his couch. The one his mother hates, it looks old and ripped with a flag of the United States embroidered into it. He lets his head fall back onto the couch, breathing gently taking in his new home. 

Zayn warms up his dinner, making sure it's hot enough. The TV is playing some cookery show mostly for background noise. Zayn eats his dinner on the table in the kitchen watching the TV from afar. Well, he is and isn't. The view is breath taking. Zayn still doesn't go close to the long wide window, his heart jumping once he gets too close. 

Zayn lays down on the couch looking at his cream ceiling. A cigarette perched in between his finger, lazy. He's just to take another pull when he hears something. A thud, a deep thud like someone had walked into something or fallen. The sound makes him drop some ash on his bare stomach, eliciting a hiss. He quickly brushes it off. Stubbing out the remains of his cigarette, he makes his way towards the bedroom. He turns on the lights, the room pure white, the side tables still, but nothing. There's no one here. The quickening of Zayn's heart slows down a beat. He is just about to close the door but something catches his eyes. Zayn's phone is on the floor. On his blue carpet. Now, this shouldn't freak Zayn out but, the thing was, Zayn distinctively remembers putting his phone on the side table. Right in the middle of it. How is the phone on the floor? Now Zayn looks again. His eyes focusing on the side table and it has been moved. Like someone has walked into it and made the phone fling across the room. Zayn slowly picks up the phone, heart in his mouth, quickly giving it a cursory glance to see if it's okay. 

"Hello?" Zayn whispers. 

Silence replies.

Maybe it was nothing, Zayn figures no one is here. Shrugging his shoulders at nothing, he walks back into the living area, taking his phone with him. Zayn calls Louis, his best friend. The call doesn't last long but Louis has decided that he hasn't see Zayn for long so they just  _have_  to meet up tomorrow for a drink. 

That night Zayn dreams of beautiful emerald eyes, blazing so hard that it almost burns his own. They're scared. Helpless.

Zayn goes about his day but he can't keep those eyes out of his mind. They haunt him like a nagging headache. Not painful but just there. Zayn tells Louis. Louis just laughs it off and tells Zayn it's only a dream and to drink them away. Maybe needs to find a fit guy and get laid. 

Zayn laughs too but it's not his sincere laugh. It's the one he learnt to use around Louis when he doesn't want him to think that Zayn is weird. Zayn drinks until his vision is blurry but he can't keep them out of his head. The way his heart aches from how he can't help the person those beautiful eyes belong to.

The next day, Zayn paints.

He paints what he dreamt about.

 

\--

 

Zayn dreams of rain hitting a windscreen. The rain is harsh, smacking against the window. Zayn's isn't driving.

_Someone_  is. 

Niall comes over a few days later, mumbling something about how Zayn has the better TV to watch the football on. Zayn shakes his head as he lets him in. 

"Liam coming later?" Zayn smiles as he gets out the popcorn, pouring it into a bowl. 

"Yeah." Niall waves his hand, the other tapping on the remote to change it. "Louis too. Hey!" Zayn looks up. "Aren't you gonna make me food?" 

"Of course, Niall." Zayn smiles sweetly. Niall pops his head up, waiting for Zayn to give him something. "Look at this yummy menu. Didn't I do a great job?" Zayn smirks at Niall's pout. 

"Fine, you meanie, you're paying for making me think you cooked for me." Niall grumbles, taking the Chinese menu.

Niall orders the whole fucking menu, on top of that Zayn had to pay for the others too. Zayn will be living off Pot Noodles for about a week. The four of them spend the evening sitting in Zayn's living area eating out containers and shouting at the TV. Especially Niall. 

Once the boys leave, obviously not helping him tidy things away, Zayn feels exhausted. He quickly messages his mum to tell her that he's settling in nicely and that it’s treating him well. He's just about to tell his mother what happened with the boys when he sees something in the corner of his eye. It's quick, sudden. Zayn jerks back dropping the phone off the bed. He backs up against the headboard, holding his knees. His mother's strained voice fills the air, she calls him a couple of times until Zayn's breathing has calmed.

" _Zayn?!_ " 

"Yeah, yeah I'm here." Zayn looks around his bedroom swiftly, holding the phone tightly against his ear. 

"What happened, jaan?"

"I don't know,” he gasps, breathing quick and heavy. "I thought I saw something."

His mother laughs. "Oh jaan, I'm sure it's your imagination. God, look at the time! You should go to sleep. I love you."

"Okay mum. Love you too."

Zayn shuts off the phone, sliding it underneath his pillow. He takes a quick look around the room before settling into his bed. It was probably his imagination. 

That night Zayn dreams of a man. A man with brown curly hair. Green piercing eyes. Soft pale skin. Bright pink lips. Long, lean torso with legs to match. The man is scared. He stands in front of a road, it's raining. The water soaking his curls, matting them to his head. Zayn tries to talk to him. But finds himself strapped in a car, driving into the man at full speed. He's just about to hit the man when he wakes up with a jolt. Sweat running down his back. His pillow soaked. Zayn was crying in his sleep.

Zayn never cries.

 

\--

 

Zayn paints the man, with a cigarette in his mouth, the man still fresh in his mind, he can't forget him. You can't forget someone you were just about to run over, even if it was a just dream. Zayn paints the man, completely disregarding his proper work. He paints the man's eyes and his curls. Those curls Zayn can't forget. No matter how many times he wills his head to stop it. By the time he's finished, its 3'oclock in the morning. Zayn cracks his back. Stretching his neck and arms out, his stomach growling at him for the lack of food. Zayn opens the fridge to find some sandwiches. He doesn't bother turning on the TV. He just stares at the painting. It's not as good as the man's actual eyes but it's something. 

 

\--

 

Zayn walks into a hospital. It's cold, dismal, grey. He can't stop walking, like his legs have a mind of their own.

He enters a room. There sits a man; the man that Zayn dreamed of before. The man looks through a few papers, his eyebrows furrowed as he reads. He bites his bottom lip, the same pink lips.  _He's beautiful_ , Zayn thinks. So beautiful. Pale skin. Emerald eyes. Thick brown curls framing his face. The man looks up as a small woman walks in, completely waking through Zayn. He gasps as she passes him and approaches the man's desk.

"Harry- Dr Styles, you should go home." She smiles sternly. 

The man - Harry, yawns, nodding. "Yes, Tracy. I think I'll call it a night."

"A night?" Tracy scoffs. "It's four in the morning, you were supposed to go home six hours ago!"

"Well it's not my fault little Ted wanted me to stay a little longer and play GI Joe with him." Dr Styles – Harry, smiles and Zayn thinks he might be fall in love, as pathetic as it sounds.

"Ted shouldn't be asking you to play with him." Tracy rolls her eyes. "He knows you're his doctor.

"Well you know I can't say no to them." Harry grins taking off his white coat and stethoscope, hanging them up on a nearby hook. 

Zayn walks beside the curly haired man, watching how his limbs are long and how he walks with his feet inwards, it's endearing, really. The man walks for a few minutes, then picks up his phone to speak to someone.

"Jane!" The man appears happy and excited to be finally talking to this person, almost breathless and Zayn feels a little jealous.

"It's late. Are you okay?" He stops, his lips trembling. Those pink lips shiver, emerald eyes glaze and a single tear falls down his face. Zayn attempts to touch him. He longs to wipe away his tear, to hold him until the man isn't shivering.

Zayn hears it before he sees it. He hears Harry gasp, he doesn't even scream. He didn't make a sound. He just falls, gracefully even. His hair curls around his eyes. Blood pouring from his head, pure red, almost too precious to waste. Zayn screams, but nothing. Zayn crouches down with the sound of a car screeching. The clouds rumble, groans like it can't comprehend what just happened. Rain softly falls onto Harry's pale skin, soaking him, making him look ethereal. Almost like an angel. Zayn's hand goes through Harry. Unable to touch him, unable to help him. Unable to feel him. Zayn screams for help like people will hear. He screams sitting by Harry. Waiting for anything, anyone, until the pain is unbearable. Then black. 

 

\--

 

Zayn shouldn't feel the way he does, he doesn't do  _this_ , eating less, smoking more, sleeping should be out of the question, he's already through two packets of  _Marlbolos_  and a joint and it's only twenty past three. His phone rings, its Louis. He ignores it taking another cigarette out of the packet and lighting it up, the TV on so low because apparently Zayn thinks the walls have ears. 

Maybe  _Harry_  might hear.

Maybe he shouldn't have slept last night.

 

-

 

The door swings open, Zayn's door, green eyes blaze into hazel, they're angry. 

"Where the  _fuck_  were you?" Harry seethes.

His eyes are dark and angry, and he's wearing a dishevelled suit, the black tie loose around his neck. Harry can see him this time. 

Harry can  _see_  Zayn. 

Zayn steps in, his body moves without any consent. Before he can comprehend what is happening, his mouth moves. 

  
"I'm sorry, I-"

"Save it, we won't make it." Harry turns around picking up a glass of a deep brown alcoholic drink. "I can't go without you, Ben would have asked about you."

_Ben?_

"Harry, I didn't-" Zayn tries, but Harry puts his palm up and then a finger to his pink mouth.

"C'mere." He beckons Zayn, pointing to the space in front his feet.

"Harry." Zayn sighs shrugging off his coat, but Harry shakes his head, his curls covering the front of his face. 

He puts down the drink and points to his feet again, silent. He sways a little. He's drunk. Zayn walks over, he finds that saying no to Harry is impossible. He can smell him, like his senses have improved drastically. Harry smells of sweat, alcohol and  _home._

" _Zayn_." Harry breathes, breathes like it feels so good to say his name, like it's a prayer. This is the first time Zayn has heard Harry actually say his name. Actually addressed Zayn himself. Zayn feels like his heart may just burst.

"Harry-" 

"Shhh." Harry smiles- smirks. "Give me your hands."

Harry pulls off his tie.

Zayn steps back. "No, Harry. I don't want you to tie my hands." 

Harry looks up, his eyes glazed,  _hurt_. Zayn's heart twinges willing to give his hands, but Zayn wills himself not to give in.  He wants to touch Harry. Touch his skin that looks so pliable, hair that looks softer than his skin and his lips, so pink, full and so  _so_ kissable.

"Okay, but don't touch me." Harry warns Zayn, unbuckling his belt. 

Zayn nods not understanding why he can't touch Harry. He walks back into Harry's area, breathing the same air. Harry takes the collars of his black jacket, sliding it down his shoulders and onto the floor. His breaths shallow, eyes darkening. He pushes Zayn around into the familiar brown couch, face first. Harry's hand snakes it's way the back of Zayn's neck, pulling his ear back to his lips.

"Were you with  _him_?" Harry grits his teeth, whispering harshly in Zayn's ear, his breath so close it's hot. 

If Zayn isn't careful, Harry will  _burn_  Zayn. 

Even if this isn't real. Zayn knows this isn't but  _God_  does he want it to be. Everything feels so real. 

"Who?" Zayn croaks.

"You know who." Harry's hand tightens on his neck making Zayn gasp, his cock hard against his trousers.

"I-" 

"Shut up." Harry growls, "don’t lie. I know." His hand tightening even more around Zayn's neck, it hurts **,** will surely leave marks. 

  
"You did it again-"

"Harry- Harry, you're hurting me." Zayn whispers, he hears Harry gasp like he's been electrocuted and pulls away. 

Zayn turns his head to see Harry's eyes wide and soft, his mouth covered by his hands. His trousers undone, his shirt creased, his cock hard. Harry shakes his head like he's getting rid of a bad memory then bending down to kneel, he takes Zayn's trousers and boxers off all in one go throwing them next to his jacket. 

"Turn around." He growls, grabbing Zayn's cock.

"No, Harry, I want to look at you." Zayn muffles into the sofa. Zayn needs this. 

Harry's hands stop for a second before turning Zayn around, then strokes his hard cock, Zayn moans, closing his eyes as Harry runs his hands up and down his cock. Zayn relishes the sharp tugs he  gives him. Zayn's hands itch to touch Harry, touch his broad shoulders, his lips, his hair, his stomach, anything and everything. 

Harry pulls Zayn down and pushes legs up, spreading them out so his ass is wide open for Harry, completely for Harry, His eyes darken, licking his lips, Harry grabs the lube from the table, slicking his fingers and goes to push into Zayn puckered hole before Zayn puts his hand on Harry's.

" _Slow_." Zayn breathes, pleads with his eyes.  He needs it slow. He needs to  _savour_  Harry. Maybe he won't get this again. 

Harry's hand jerks, so Zayn quickly pulls back, holding his legs open, but Harry nods, slowly pushing his finger in, it's slick with lube so sounds awful but feels so good, Zayn groans giving into Harry's fingers.

Once he's ready, Harry glides the condom on his leaking cock, moaning softly at the feel of it.

"Slow?" He asks Zayn, looking up at him, pulling him forward so his arse isn't on the sofa anymore, his teeth holding on to his bottom lip making them dark red, bruised cherry. Zayn licks his lips, he likes to think Harry's lips taste like cherries.

"Please." Zayn sighs as Harry gently pushes in. 

"Slow." Harry repeats, his eyebrows furrowed, pure concentration on his face, he bottoms out. He pulls back, making them both gasp. Zayn stares at Harry, his legs wide open for Harry, who’s holding them tighter as Zayn's hand grips the arm of the couch, the other fisted into the couch. Grips it so hard so he doesn't touch Harry. The position is awkward, tense and weird, half of his body in midair and the other on the couch but it feels so, so good. Harry slowly fucks in and out of Zayn. So slow Zayn wonders if Harry's knees will snap.

"Okay, let go." Zayn breathes. 

Harry lets go of a breath, pulling back sharply, and thrusting in deep into the ‘ _oh so sweet’_ spot.

"Watch," Harry grabs Zayn's head pulling it down to look at his cock thrusting hard into his arse, "watch  _us_." 

The couch screeches against the wooden floor. Zayn's senses heightened, he can almost hear the sweat roll down Harry's back. 

Zayn's eyes drop, hooded, his half unbuttoned shirt risen up so it's stuck underneath his armpits, he watches Harry's cock disappear and reappear with the tip still in him, if it was possible it made him harder, his own cock hard against his stomach leaking. 

"Harry- please." Zayn keens, holding Harry’s hands round the back of his knees. 

"Zayn, I-" Harry’s hands are tightening underneath Zayn's. "Ask me."

"What?" Zayn's eyes jerk up to Harry's face, who is staring back him.

"Ask me if you can come." Harry gasps, he throws his head back like he can't bear to look at Zayn, their hands sweating against one another’s.

"Can I come?" Zayn rasps.

" _Again._ "

"Can I come?" Zayn gasps, Harry hitting his prostate again.

"Come. Don't touch yourself." Harry squeezes his eyes shut, his teeth gritted. 

"But watch." 

Zayn whines, looks down lifting his hips up as cock spurts with come up his stomach, untouched from how turned on he is, watching his cock bubble, he sighs tightening his arse. He sees Harry watching him, his mouth open, as he comes inside Zayn, the condom filling up with his own hot come. 

 

-

 

Zayn jerked awake, his heart was beating so hard that he thought he was going to pass out. His breathing erratic, sweat around his face, soaking his pillow and mattress. When Zayn pulled back the comforter, he had come on his stomach, still hot and sticky, fresh.

Zayn even ran to his mirror to see if there were any marks.

Nothing. 

Who is  _he_?

 

\--

 

So that's why Zayn doesn't speak to anyone. He thinks he's going crazy. What would he even tell them? ' _Oh yeah I had sex with someone who I don't even know and the best part; it was a fucking dream!’_

Therefore, Zayn doesn't say much when Liam comes round to see if he's okay. He can't tell them. He won't tell him. He can't exactly tell him that he's attracted to a guy who he hasn't even met. Zayn doesn't know if Harry is real.

So Zayn leaves. 

He goes home, back to Bradford. Away from his apartment in London. Away from his friends. Away from  _Harry_.

Zayn enters the house, the waft of cardamom hitting him like nostalgia is touchable, almost tangible, the house warm, filled with photographs of him and his sisters nearly in every corner, he enters the living room where a large frame hangs, a photograph of his mother and father smiling at the camera, it's his favourite photograph and loves the fact it sits proudly on the sienna wall which reminds him of the humidity in Pakistan when he went with his parents and Doniya. When Waliyah and Safaa were still yet to come along. He sets his suitcase down, sitting down on the new couches that he brought for the new house he helped his parents buy, he leans back and breathes in, the smell of  _home_. Home is where Zayn is  _Zain_ , not that hotshot architect, that architect everyone wants him to create their new home. Here Zain is his mummy's boy, the loving brother to his sisters, the one who loves his Baba like a best friend. Here is where his heart is content.

_Zain_. Not Zayn.

Zayn spends a few days lying awake. He doesn't want to think about Harry let alone dream about him. He lays awake playing Candy Crush on his phone until his body is exhausted and he can't dream about anything. 

It’s the fifth day when he finally sleeps, sleeps in his old bed, the one he lost his virginity to a sweet girl named Sian. Sian was Zayn's first for everything. His first kiss, first girlfriend. His  _first_. 

That night Zayn dreams about colours, the colours of Sian's dark circles under her beautiful brown eyes. The wispy blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders. The light shade pink of her lips. But the colours changed to a deeper shade of pink, bright emeralds, twinkling, shimmering. Dark smooth brown, so soft. 

Pale, pale, skin with deep blue and purple veins underneath. 

That's it.

 

\--

 

"Hi, my name is Zayn Malik, could I speak to Laura Taylor. It's important."

"One moment, sir." A cool voice rings through Zayn's ears, making him shiver slightly.

He hears the phone being put down and then picked up.

"Mr Malik." Laura's voice seems shaky, like she's on edge.

"Hi, I want to speak to you."

"I thought you might."

"What does that mean?"

"I can't do this right now." Zayn imagines the red head woman massaging her temples. 

"What do you mean-"

"I will be over at 7, tonight."

Zayn sighs. He can't exactly say no.

"Alright. I'll be waiting."

"Okay."

Laura walks in, her red hair shiny and so straight. Her heels click as she walks into the living space and sits on a stool. 

"Do you want-" Zayn nudges his head towards the kitchen.

"No, thank you." She smiles straightening out her navy skirt.

Zayn nods sitting on his couch. He sits forward. He came home two days ago.  Last night the thudding got worse. Like someone was bumping into his things again. He tangles his fingers together waiting.

"I presume you've heard things?" She whispers, leaning forward. 

Zayn nods, his heart beating harder.

"People say it's ' _The Doctor.'_ " 

"You mean Harry Styles?" Zayn wants to laugh at the name.

Laura leans back, gaping.

"You know his name?"

"Yeah. I've dreamt about him."

"What did you see?" She leans forward again, like Harry's in the room and can hear her. 

Zayn swallows. "How he died. One time I killed him." He isn't going to tell Laura that Harry fucked him.

"He isn't dead." 

Zayn pops his head up. "He-what?"

"He's in a coma, has been for about 3 years now." Laura stares blankly at him. 

Laura leaves, leaving Zayn with new information. Harry was- is a doctor, a children's doctor. His mother was friends with Laura's mother. That's why Laura was asked by Anne, Harry's mother, to sell Harry's house after two years. Many stayed a few days in Harry's home but couldn't hack the dreams of a man being run over or the noises at night. But, Zayn isn't scared. Harry is probably searching for help. Zayn can maybe help him. He can help Harry to feel safe. 

 

\--

 

So Zayn stays. Zayn doesn't go looking for Doctor Harry Styles who is in a coma, he wouldn't feel right. He already has one. The Harry who he dreams of. The one he can speak to, the one who is there in his house. Sometimes cooking. Sometimes sitting waiting for Zayn to come and speak to him. Zayn will help Harry. He won't let anything happen.

Then Zayn's heart goes and does something stupid. 

It falls in love with this curly haired man. The man whom he's never met, the man who he's not spoken to in the real world. But the Harry who speaks at two miles an hour with a deep voice that sounds like honey. 

Zayn waits for the nights, sometimes to squeeze something out of afternoon naps. He lets Harry enter his dreams, let's the man overwhelm him, let's him take over his senses, let's him do what Harry wants. Although Zayn's never touched Harry, Harry's never let Zayn touch him or kiss him, even in his dreams. But he doesn't mind. Because it  _feels_  so real: the conversations that they share. But, they never talk about that night.

If Zayn could, he'd stay in his dreams for Harry. He doesn't need anyone. He doesn't need Louis, Liam or Niall. In his dreams, Harry is everything; Harry is Zayn's world. The person who he'd crawl over glass for just to see their dimpled smile again. He'd never leave Harry and he doesn't want Harry to leave him. 

Last night Zayn had the best dream with Harry. He wouldn't change it for the world. 

Perhaps Zayn  _is_  going mad. 

 

-

 

As soon as the dark fog fades. He's getting pushed against the door, hands being held up by a strong force and then there are lips closing around his,  _Harry._ Harry's kissing him. It only takes Zayn three seconds to realise what is happening before he kisses Harry back with every hair he has on his body, the kiss is hot, sticky, and desperate with teeth. Zayn tests the grip Harry has on his wrists and they're pretty tight. Harry pulls on his lips, groaning, then back to suck his bottom lip, thrusting his tongue into Zayn's attempting to suck the nectar from the underside of his tongue and Zayn can't do anything apart from jerk his hips up wanting to scream  _yes, yes, yes_.

Harry takes Zayn's hands; gently placing them on his bare chest, putting his on top to make sure Zayn doesn't move his. He stops kissing to look at him, his emerald eyes staring into Zayn's. Zayn's heart threatens to jump out of his chest, he lets his hands touch Harry's skin, down to his stomach, then back up to his shoulders, it's smoother than Zayn had thought. 

He's letting Zayn  _touch_  him. 

"You scare me, Zayn." Harry breathes closing his eyes letting Zayn touch him where he thought it wasn't possible. 

"Scare you?" Zayn whispers against Harry's lips.

"Yeah, you make me feel again."

"Feel?"

"I knew if you touched me, I'd give in."

Before Zayn can question it, Harry's slumping to his knees, pulling down Zayn's unbuttoned jeans, Zayn's head is everywhere, he's seeing white when Harry pushes his head into Zayn's clothed cock, inhaling deeply then humming appreciatively, he then takes his cock out of his boxers and stroking gently like Zayn is breakable.

"Can I?" Harry looks up with dark, hooded eyes.

Zayn doesn't know if they're black or green anymore. Harry doesn't allow him to answer, sinking his mouth onto Zayn's cock. Zayn bites his fist to keep from crying out.

_So good._

Harry takes Zayn in further nearly to the back of his throat, sucking him sloppily, his teeth catching on Zayn's cock which makes Zayn hiss and kick his foot. When Zayn is just about to come, Harry's getting up, pushing him around, literally ripping the t-shirt off Zayn's frame, then sinking his teeth into his shoulder, sucking, biting, licking, kissing it until Zayn can't feel anything apart from the hot heat of Harry's mouth.

"Got anything?" Harry whispers harshly letting go after what felt like a lifetime. 

Zayn nods at a cabinet, hands on the door. Harry kisses Zayn's cheek and his head is spinning, threatening to black out from how much he's turned on.

He feels a cool finger rub lightly against his opening and Harry's warm chest against his back. Zayn hisses when Harry latches his lips onto Zayn's neck again, his breathing erratic. 

"It's bubblegum." Harry whispers like he's amazed. "Let's see how it tastes." 

Zayn gasps when Harry kisses down his back to kneel on the floor, kissing Zayn's cheeks, first the right cheek, gently biting it and does the same to his left then stretching his cheeks to lather more lube on Zayn's tight hole. Zayn almost screams when Harry licks and then blows and he wants to touch himself so badly. It's  _filthy._

"Hands on the door." Harry firmly states and Zayn doesn't know how he does it but lifts his hands on the door above his head, moaning into his coat hung on it. 

Harry licks, pushing his tongue into Zayn's tight hole, flicking his tongue a little, Zayn is limp, sweat rolling down his back, hair curling underneath his ears, Zayn feels Harry flatten his tongue and then push in further and he feels it in the pit of his stomach.

"Do you want to come, babe?" Harry's voice is muffled and vibrates through Zayn's body, but Zayn definitely heard him, he nods against the door not trusting his voice. "Answer me, Zayn." 

"Yes, yes, yes." Zayn rushes out, hissing again when Harry flicks his tongue again. 

"Touch yourself." 

Zayn groans, reaching down to touch his cock, stroking himself vigorously. 

"Ask me." Harry breathes. 

"Can I come?" Zayn gasps, Harry pulls him back, making Zayn practically sit on his face, digging his tongue in deeper into Zayn's arse like he doesn't want to breathe.

"Nuh uh. Try again." Harry stops and kisses his left cheek, biting Zayn's hip, then going back to lick Zayn.   
  
"Can I come, please?" Zayn rubs at his slit, precome bubbling underneath his thumb.  
  
"Again, baby."  
  
"Can I come,  _please?_ " Zayn keens, one hand fisting himself and the other against the door, not opening his eyes.   
  
"Once more."  
  
"Can I come, please Harry?" He feels Harry smile against his arse. 

"Come for me."

Zayn feels him squeeze his arse, pushing him up. He comes hard, his head spinning, his heart slamming against his rib cage, his stomach upside down, his legs filled with pins and needles. He groans as his come spurts up his door. Harry sits back as Zayn slides down onto the floor in a heap of flesh. 

 

-

 

When Zayn jerks awake, he feels a dull ache on his neck. Then he looks in the mirror, there sitting on his golden skin is a dark purple bruise, he presses his fingers onto the skin to feel the sting, to feel what Harry did to him.

Even though Zayn was covered in come and sweat, nothing would have prepared him for the next night.

The next night's dream was even better.

 

-

 

Zayn finds himself on his bed, the comforter at his feet, he's still naked- well kind of, a ripped shirt clinging to his hips. He searches for Harry. Just then, Harry walks in, in nothing but in  _Burberry_ boxers, the bulge in them is ridiculous. Zayn's never seen Harry naked. The pale skin making him itch to touch it. Harry kneels at the end of the bed, kissing Zayn's ankle, gently moving up, placing wet kisses on his thighs, bypassing Zayn's cock which twitches, Harry makes sure he presses quick kiss on the tip of it, then moving his lips down to Zayn's inner thighs, sucking little bruises on them, Zayn moans softly, eyes fluttering shut, mouth open, Harry lifts Zayn's hips pulling down what's left of Zayn's shirt, he then presses wet kisses on Zayn's stomach, licking his abdomen, swirling his tongue in circles.

"Harry," Zayn sighs when Harry takes a dark nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and making Zayn's hips jerk. 

Harry switches to the right nipple and pulls, gently suckling on it, Zayn groans, heart in his ears.

"I'm sorry." Harry breathes into Zayn's neck. Zayn doesn't say anything, Harry kisses his collarbone.

"I'm so sorry." Harry whispers then runs his tongue across the bone, then leading his tongue up to Zayn's jaw, biting hard, making Zayn hiss. 

"Can I make it up to you?" Harry smiles, pressing his lips onto Zayn's and kisses him so softly, like he has all the time in the world, gently caressing Zayn's face with his hands, as he lays in between his legs.

He runs his tongue along Zayn's mouth, wanting him to open up, once Zayn does, Harry slowly curls his tongue around Zayn's, making a noise that sounds like a cross between a sigh and gasp. Harry kisses Zayn for what feels like a lifetime, both of them drunk with it, lips raw and swollen. Zayn's hands on Harry's hips as Harry deepens the kiss, then gently pecking a few times to look at Zayn.

"So can I?" Harry whispers like he's scared of the answer Zayn is going to give him, eyes wide and bright, lips slightly trembling.

Zayn nods, not knowing why Harry is apologising, but he is worried that Harry now knows his secrets and will expose him and then go. He's worried that Harry will leave him now, and not want to come back. He won't lose Harry. 

_He can't lose Harry._

"Harry." Zayn shakes his head leaning on his elbows to prop him up. 

  
"What is it?" Harry sits up to straddle Zayn and places his hands on his either side of Zayn's face.

"What if you-" 

"I'm not going anywhere." Harry kisses Zayn, slowly suckling on his bottom lip. "I promise."

Zayn breaks the kiss to look into Harry's eyes. They're sincere, glazed. "Pinkie promise me." Zayn smiles. 

Harry lets go, putting his pinkie in front of Zayn, his face serious. Zayn links his pinkie finger with Harry's and beams at him. 

Harry leans in, tightening his finger, kissing Zayn's ear. 

"I pinkie promise I'm not going anywhere, Malik." He looks back at Zayn, his face innocent.

Zayn nods and leans in again to kiss Harry, pulling them both down onto the bed, so they're in a tangle of legs and arms, He kisses Harry like he can't get enough, now Harry has kissed Zayn, Zayn wants to keep his lips against Harry's all the time, even if it means he doesn't need to breathe. The kiss is slow and sticky, but perfect, Harry's lips are so soft, the softest things Zayn's ever felt, their fingers still linked.

"I want you to fuck me." Harry breathes against his lips, before Zayn can say anything, Harry clumsily kisses him again humming like it's what he's been looking for, Zayn squeezes his hips making him smile and look at him again. 

"Have you ever-" Harry shakes his head kissing him again, taking his bottom lip in between his and pulling. Zayn's cock twitches at the thought of being Harry's first. 

"I trust you." Harry breathes, "I want you to do it." 

Zayn runs his hands down Harry's torso then holding him tight as he kisses him, deep and slow, holding him tight then caressing his back, running his hands up and down those rippling muscles as Harry's hands hold Zayn's face, hair falling down onto Zayn's forehead.

"Are you sure?" Zayn mumbles searching Harry's eyes for regret or anxiety but nothing, Harry's eyes are dark but soft, like they're trusting. Harry just pecks his lips as if to say, ' _I trust you.'_

Zayn gently flips them over, he kisses Harry, curling his tongue on the roof of Harry's mouth, it's slow and wet, their mouths making a flavour that Zayn can't get enough of, he gently suckles on Harry's body, becoming familiar with the taste of his body, marking him as his own, he kisses down to Harry's nipples. -  _'You have four nipples?' 'Shut up.'_  - taking them into his mouth feeling them tighten in his mouth, Zayn kisses down to Harry's abdomen swirling his mouth on Harry's abs. Harry moans, his pretty pink mouth wide open. 

"Zayn I-" 

"Get up." Zayn sits up, grabbing the lube and a condom. Harry looks confused but sits up.

Zayn sits down in the middle of the bed with his legs out. "Sit on me, I want you to ride me." 

Harry's eyes close like he's trying to reel himself in and crawls onto Zayn's lap, bending his knees beside Zayn.

"Now, this is gonna hurt, you'll hate me-" 

"I won't hate you." Harry interrupts pecking Zayn's mouth, making him smile lopsided. 

Zayn slicks up his fingers and reaches round to Harry's arse, Harry takes in a sharp breath then kisses Zayn, Zayn slides the first finger in and out making Harry bite down on his lip. 

"Keep going." Harry breathes against Zayn's lips, so he carries on, pushing the second finger and making Harry groan. Zayn softly palms at his cock, making it a little easier for him. 

The process is time consuming and Zayn's own cock hard on his thigh, feeling like it might burst, like it can't wait to be inside Harry. But Zayn still goes on opening Harry up carefully, both of them sweating and breathing heavily against each other's open mouths. When Zayn finds Harry's prostate, Harry actually groans so loud lifting off of Zayn's hips and scratching his back. 

Finally Harry's ready.

 

"Okay, you ready?" Zayn croaks.

Both of them sweaty and hot, hair matted to their foreheads, sweat running off their sideburns and chins, and they haven't even gotten to the best bit yet. Harry nods placing both hands on Zayn's shoulder, touching the bruise on it and making Zayn squirm. 

Zayn holds his cock and Harry lifts his hips slowly sinking down onto Zayn. 

"I-" Harry cuts himself off with a groan.

Zayn sucks in a deep breath throwing back his head to lay down. Harry's so hot and tight on his cock, Harry squeezes his pecs as he bites his dark bruised lips.

Harry whines. "Zayn- you." 

Harry feels so perfect, he could cry.

Air whooshes out of Zayn. "You're so tight, babe. Does it hurt?" He asks running his hands up Harry's arms, allowing Harry to adjust for a bit, he wants to move so badly but he can't hurt Harry. He wouldn’t dare hurt Harry.

Harry leans down kissing Zayn hard, pressing, pulling, biting his lips like he's pouring the pain into the kiss. After a few seconds, Harry lifts his hips a inch before sitting back down the two men moaning into each other's mouths.

"Am I doing it right?" Harry's eyes alight with hope and Zayn can't not love him in this moment, all that doubt forgotten, because Harry didn't have to do this, Harry is trusting Zayn not to hurt him.

"You're doing so well, babe." 

He squeezes Harry's arse telling him to move, if they just stay like that, Zayn knows he'll snap. 

"What do you want me to do?" The question throws Zayn. He grabs Harry's hips.

"Move in a circle for me, babe?"

Harry groans like a fucking _porn star_  and flicks his hips, circling them on Zayn's cock and it feels so good and so, so deep. 

Harry throws his head back, mouth slack, his eyes closed, curly hair cascading behind him, giving Zayn a wonderful view of his beautiful body, long veined neck, long torso covered in purple bruises, his hands splayed on Zayn's chest, curling his fingers creating red angry scratch marks. 

"Am I doing it right?" Harry breathes, looking down at Zayn. 

His eyes blown wide, pure black, his lips bitten red raw, the reddest red Zayn has ever seen, nipples taut and pink, skin so pale, it's nearly white that his tattoos look stark and fresh. Zayn's hands itch to pick up a paintbrush wanting to paint Harry in an array of colours. 

"Yeah, babe, feels so good." Zayn doesn't even know how he’s managing to speak at this point, Harry feels so tight and perfect around him, his cock so far up his arse. Harry circles his hips in a rhythm, round and round, both men gasping with their mouths open in perfect  _O's_.

"Okay, ride me, babe." Zayn whispers, lifting his hands up for Harry to take them.

Harry takes Zayn's hands lacing them then lifts his hips up, this time he stays moving, groaning around Zayn's cock, sweat rolling down his chin onto Zayn's stomach. Zayn watches Harry bob up and down on his cock, quickly untangling one of his hands from Harry to hold his hair back so he doesn't miss anything. He wants to watch. Harry kisses him again, allowing Zayn to swallow his gasps and moans and Zayn takes it all, takes everything Harry gives him. 

"You take me." Harry opens his mouth and their mouths slick and wet. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah, fuck me." Harry places his hands on Zayn, Zayn holds his hips pulling him down and pecks his lips before flicking his hips up and pulling Harry's hips down making them both gasp. "Don't hold back. Lose control and take me with you." 

Zayn flips them over so Harry's underneath him. He pulls back and thrusts in hard. It feels so good, Zayn is in awe with the way Harry is taking his cock so well. Zayn knows he won't last, and by the way Harry is repeating Zayn's name every time Zayn touches his prostate, he's sure he won't last, then Harry's babbling, his head thrown back into the pillows.

"Zayn, Zayn, Zayn." Harry gushes out, every time he takes a breath. 

"Think I love you Zayn." 

Zayn feels his heart slam against his chest. 

"You're so fucking beautiful." Harry looks up at Zayn, panting with his hand curling at Zayn's shoulders. "You told me- told me not to leave you." 

Zayn thrusts in harder. "Harr-"

I won't leave." Harry sucks in a breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head, lips so swollen. "I promise." Harry pants.

Zayn twitches, his ears becoming hot, until Harry pulls him down to kiss him again, murmuring into Zayn's lips that he _loves_  him, etching the words into Zayn's mouth again and again, into his gums, across his tongue and bitten into his lips. 

  
_"I love you, Zayn."_

_  
"I love you so fucking much."_

_  
"Don't leave me."_

_  
"I won't leave you."_

_  
"I promise."_

_  
"I swear on my life, Zayn."_

  
Zayn fucks into him, head pressed into Harry's neck, until Harry can't take it anymore and he's coming, coming hot velvety strings onto his chest and on Zayn stomach, making a mess on both of them. Zayn fucks him until he's spent, some still oozing out of him.

"Harry, quick I'm gonna come."

"Come in me." He breathes, whispering against his lips. 

And then Zayn's coming inside Harry, wanting to whisper the words he wants Harry to hear. He can feel the words on the edge of his tongue like he can taste it. But he doesn't.

 

-

  
He just couldn't do it. 

_Harry isn't real._

 

\--

  
Then the dreams stop. 

The sudden thuds around the house stop too. 

Zayn breaks everything. He breaks his table, he breaks his plates, his side tables.

He thinks he's going crazy. Maybe it was because it felt so real. He tries to force himself to sleep. Just to get a glance of his Harry. Just to feel him again. The bruises slowly fading, until nothing. Zayn knows. He  _knows_  Harry wasn't real. The real Harry is out there in a coma but he isn't Zayn's Harry. The Harry who he dreamt about, the one he's become crazy over. It shouldn't hurt this much. But nothing. He just sees black. Like he's trying to find his way home and the bright light is nowhere to be seen. 

Zayn lays on the floor, curled up, his knees up his chest. He cries. He doesn't see anyone. He won't let them him fall apart. He just wants his Harry. He just wants to see him again. Just a little peek. Just something. Anything. His dimple. His eyes. His mouth. His unruly locks.  His hands. His pale skin. Just anything. 

 

\----------

 

**ONE YEAR LATER**

 

Zayn settles into a new project. A guy named John offered him a lot of money to create a new house for him and his wife and their children. Zayn focuses all his attention into creating the perfect home for John and his family. He doesn't think about  _him_. Zayn's strong. He has thick skin and  _he_  didn't break Zayn. 

Zayn goes out with his friends, drinks until he can't see anything, passing out because he hasn't got a choice. No one will see Zayn fall apart. Zayn's like a rubber band. You can pull him but he won't snap. He's fine.  _He_  didn't break Zayn. 

Zayn won't allow that to happen.

It wasn't real. 

 

\--

Zayn is mixing some paint for a new painting, the TV nearly on mute because Zayn still can't bear too much noise. He's just about to stub out his cigarette when his doorbell rings. He glances at the time, noticing how late it is. 2:36 am in the morning to be exact. He places the paintbrush behind his ear, wiping the excess green paint into his overalls. He opens the door. 

He stands there, the same eyes, the same pink lips, those chocolate brown curls and that pale skin Zayn can't stop thinking about. 

_Harry_.

"I'm sorry, this is the wrong time to knock on your door." He speaks, the same slow syrupy voice like honey on pancakes.

He looks down at his shoes embarrassed; they're still the same, still faced inwards, like he's still a fifteen year old. The same dimple ghosting over his delicate skin. Zayn can't move when he looks back at him, the same emerald eyes blazing into his.  

"Do I know you?" The curly haired man points a finger at Zayn. His eyebrows furrowed like he's trying to figure out a really hard math problem. "I feel like I know you."

Zayn opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

"This used to be my house." He breathes, eyes still fixated on Zayn. 

"I know." Zayn croaks and Harry takes a sharp intake of breath like something has winded him. 

"I definitely know we've met but I can't seem to place you." Real Harry fidgets with his unbuttoned shirt. Zayn can see the tattoo on his stomach of the moth. It's definitely a moth because Harry told him many times. Well, his Harry. Not this one.

"I'm sorry. I should go." He lifts his hand and points at Zayn, then to his right. He's just about to walk when Zayn's mouth moves.

"Harry." He whispers. 

The man stops in his tracks, turning around, his hair longer than when Zayn last saw him. He likes it. It softly curls around his shoulders. 

"You know my name?" Real Harry whispers a little breathless like it hurts to talk. 

Zayn nods. 

Real Harry steps forward tripping on his mat, flinging forward, arms flailing, he bolts forward. Zayn immediately jumps forward to catch him. Like his body knew what to do before he could tell it to. Real Harry feels like  _Zayn's Harry._  The same muscular back and warm soft skin. And that hair which is pretty much in Zayn's mouth. Real Harry feels better, he feels sturdy, hot, warm.

_Real_. 

Although Zayn's Harry felt real, but Zayn would feel like something was missing.

A heartbeat. 

Zayn places the man on his feet, keeping his hands out just in case he falls again. He nods when he thinks Real Harry will be okay. - he should stop calling him that. - Harry looks embarrassed, cheeks flushed. He looks down, eyelashes fanning the top of his cheeks. Zayn can't not look, his heart thudding painfully as he takes in this man. 

"How do you know me?" Harry speaks, his voice deathly quiet. 

"I- I-" Zayn shakes his head. 

What can he say? What does he tell this man?  _I'm in love with you. Yeah I had sex with you... Oh by the way, I dreamt it all._

Harry watches Zayn's mouth move, soft eyes, soft lips that Zayn yearns to feel properly for the first time. Like his skin is itchy, he wants to feel Harry's skin under his fingertips, wants to paint on the boy, creating little paintings on his beautiful body. Zayn wants to kiss him until both of them are drunk with it. Zayn's lonely, he deserves to be happy for once. He does have friends but friends can only do so much. Zayn needs Harry. He wants Harry. He  _craves_  Harry. 

"Uh, okay, you better come in." Zayn beckons the man in. 

Harry walks in, taking in the apartment, his eyes finding a canvas covered in various shades of green. Zayn watches him as he walks over and stares at it.

"You paint?" Harry calls after a while as Zayn's pouring milk into two mugs of coffee.

"Sometimes, I'm an architect." Zayn walks over and passes a mug to Harry, their fingers brushing quickly, like an electroshock, quick, the current surging through their bloodstream, making them both gasp.

"Did you feel that?" Harry breathes, his voice deep and slow like he's just been fucked and Zayn doesn't know if he can do this.

"Yeah." Zayn responds, sounding exactly the same.

"Fuck."

"I know."

Harry takes a sip of his coffee, wincing at it but still drinking. His eyes are still on Zayn. Zayn fiddles with the handle of the mug before sitting on the floor. Harry follows suit.

"I'm sorry for coming here so late." Harry whispers. "I just wanted to see my old house. Miss it, y'know." 

"I understand." Zayn takes out a cigarette. "D'ya mind?" 

Harry shakes his head smiling softly and Zayn wants to cry at how beautiful he is. It's taking so much willpower not to touch his delicate skin. 

"What's your name?"

"Zayn."

Harry breathes out quickly, like Zayn's name stunned him.

"What does it mean?" He says- breathes. 

Zayn blows out smoke.

" _Beauty_."

"Suits you."

"Thanks." Zayn nods, stubbing out his cigarette. 

"Um, could you tell me how you knew my name?"

"Uh, I moved in here about more than a year ago."

Harry puts his mug down, crosses his legs. He's giving Zayn his full attention.

"I dreamt of you."

"Malik." Harry breathes. "Your last name is Malik." 

"Yeah."

"How do I know that?" His eyes widen, like he can't believe he just said that.

"I'm not sure myself but, do you have these memories of us?" Zayn flicks his cigarette in his mug. 

Harry blushes. He remembers. "Uh, yeah."

"What do you remember?" Zayn's heart quickens.

"We did things." Harry blushes even more. "I remember saying your name, but whenever I tried remember I couldn't hear it. As soon you said your name, it was like I could breathe again." Harry looks down, fiddling with his fingers.

Zayn lifts his hand, he needs to know. He places it on Harry's chest. Harry gasps, closing his eyes, like it hurts. Zayn feels the strong thuds against his palm, the beats getting quicker. Harry has a  _heartbeat._

"What- what are you doing?" Harry's voice is strained. 

"What did we do, Harry?" Zayn keeps his hand placed on his chest.

Harry whimpers softly, mewling when Zayn tightens his hand on his shirt.

"We-" he stutters. Like the words can't leave his mouth. 

"Can I try something?" Zayn leans forward. He could at least have this. Please let him have this.

Harry squeezes his eyes tighter then looks down at Zayn. His eyes blaze, they're dark, almost black. His pink lips a darker shade. He nods and Zayn leans in. 

Harry's lips are firm, warm, insistent, plush, plump, and so soft, so soft Zayn may cry. But they feel real. A little wet, probably from licking them so much, but it feels real, even more real than in his dreams. Zayn's heart thuds hard against his ribcage as he pulls away slowly.

When he looks up, Harry is so close to him, his pale face that is so soft, eyelashes fanned across his flushed cheeks, his pink lips pouted. He still has his eyes closed, like he's trying to comprehend what just happened, like he's trying to reel himself in. 

"We've done that before haven't we?" Harry whispers, almost breathless with his eyes still closed. 

Zayn nods even though he knows Harry can't see him. 

Harry opens his eyes slowly, so slowly Zayn thinks he'll never open them again and that scares him. It scares him that Harry was in a coma. That he had been hurt. Zayn is in love with Harry. Zayn's Harry  _is_  Real Harry. And Real Harry is here, he has a heartbeat.  _He's breathing_.

Zayn's Harry is gone because this Harry has woken up. 

_Harry is real._

So when he takes Harry's face into his hands and kisses him again. Zayn feels like he's burning, burning like fire, deep, burning alive. He can barely breathe. Like he's fire and Harry is gasoline. He needs Harry to burn with him.

Zayn blazes as he holds Harry's hand, finding his comfort and peace when Harry plays with it. He tells Harry about the dreams, about the thudding, about Laura. Harry listens intently, his fingers laced with Zayn's. Holding them tight even if, technically, they've only known each other for a few hours. 

"And then you turned up here." Zayn finishes.

Even though they're both groggy, tired from lack of sleep, as the clock’s now creeping up to 7 in the morning. Harry is practically on him, sitting on his lap, their fingers entwined, the other hand slowly scratching Harry's curls because apparently Harry likes it and he isn't ashamed to ask for it. 

Harry looks down at their hands making Zayn do the same.

"I think I know why I didn't let you touch me."

 

\--

 

Harry first met Maddie when they were both in university studying medicine, at first she was Adam's girlfriend, who Harry shared a room with. But as time went on, Maddie found herself winding into Harry's bed, sharing drunken kisses, whilst Adam was asleep in the next bed, which made Harry hard. Maddie sucked him off. Hard and fast like there was no time.

This went on for a while, the two of them sneaking behind the football ground, Maddie sucking sloppily on Harry's cock like it was a fucking lollypop. Harry eating her out like he'd been starved for years.

Adam found out. 

Maddie ran after Harry when he was thrown out of his and Adam's room alongside a black eye and bruised ribs.

She tended to his bruises, kissing them delicately, then throwing her hair back to rub ointment onto his stomach. The hair Harry loved playing with, it was always so soft and pretty to braid. Harry loved her. Loved everything about her, wouldn't look at another girl because Maddie was  _it_  for him. The one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. So what he did, he did for her, worked his arse off, earned enough money so he could stop working for a while to spend all of his time with her and hopefully their children.

So Harry brought the £3,000 ring from  _Cartier_ , he paid for it with a face splitting grin, the owner smiling just as hard as she popped the red velvet box into a silk bag. Harry held the ring in his pocket, grinning as he drove home. Their  _home._

Then it happened.

Harry planned on surprising Maddie. But, Maddie had something else planned for Harry. 

Harry walked up the stairs, his eyes bright, hands shaking as he opened the door and there he was.

Adam had come back, he hadn't just come back, he was in their bed with her. She smiled looking at Harry, eyes dancing, she mockingly gasped as she put on her her clothes. Tying that beautiful brunette hair into a bun. She walked up to Harry who was rooted to his spot.

She smiled kissing his cheek, then reaching beside him to pick up a suitcase.

The one they used when they went to Paris. She winked at Adam who grinned back as he buckled his belt.

She left.

 

 

 

>   _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _I hope what you saw didn't hurt you too much but you know you had it coming. You were going to stop working, you wanted to settle down and have children (yuck!)_
> 
> _Did you know Adam is a billionaire? Yes, he owns several banks around London. Please try not to hate me too much, I mean you did love me at some point. But if you think I ever loved you, never did honey. Well I say 'never', I loved you when you got me that beautiful bracelet, maybe I'll take that with me, imagine how much it must have cost._
> 
> _Think of it this way, my so called love for you now belongs to Adam. He brought be a beautiful necklace the first time we met after ages. Must have cost an arm and a leg. Oh gosh, it was actually orgasmic, the feel of it against my skin. It was the only thing I wore when I next saw Adam._
> 
> _Think of me._
> 
> _Won't you?_
> 
> _You won't forget me honey._
> 
> _I know._
> 
> _Maddie x_

 

Harry slumped to the floor, his knees pressed up to his knees as the salty tears fell from his eyes onto the paper making the inky handwriting smudge, dampening the stark white paper.

Maybe Harry wasn't destined for that kind of life, a hand full of children, a loving partner who saw the world in him.

_Now you know._

 

_\--_

 

"The day I was hit, Jane, my friend called to tell me that Maddie had married Adam. Before that, I vowed I wouldn’t let anyone touch me. I vowed I'd never let myself fall for someone."

Harry's eyes wet, red around them, making his eyes insanely green. Zayn gently rubs his fingertips over his scalp, soothing, to help stop the tears from falling. 

"I still have her letter." He sniffs. "Couldn't bring myself to throw it away." 

"Do you have it on you right now?" Zayn stops scratching his scalp making Harry mewl. 

But Harry digs into his pocket to give Zayn the crumpled paper. Zayn quickly reads it; the beautiful swirly handwriting scrawled across the page. It makes his heart twinge, Harry shouldn't have gone through this. Not  _his_  Harry. This isn't allowed to happen to people as perfect as Harry. 

"Here." Zayn pulls out his lighter.

"What?"

"Burn it."

"What- Zayn."

"She's gone, Harry." Zayn places the green lighter into Harry's palms. "I'm here."

Harry leans forward. Lighting the end of the paper, he watches as the flame spreads. He throws it into a half empty cup of cold coffee. He turns back to hug Zayn, tight, breathing in his neck, sighing like he's content, like a huge weight has lifted off of his shoulders. 

"You'll never leave?" Harry muffles into Zayn's neck.

"Never." Zayn promises. 

He will never leave Harry. 

"Oh, who's Ben?" Zayn holds the man tighter. 

"A friend, why?"

"Just wondered."

"So now what?"

"I can think of something. You up for it?" Zayn stands, picking Harry up with him. 

"Yeah."

"It's late, well early. Depending on how you wanna look at it."

"Zayn, I've been asleep for four years, cut me some slack." Harry smirks. 

That does it.

Zayn's lips close around his, kissing hard, pushing them towards a wall. He feels Harry’s surprise, who in turn kisses back with everything his has, the kiss heated and filled with teeth, the taste of coffee on their tongues being passed the two of them. Zayn presses open mouthed kisses down to Harry's jaw and then down to his neck, sinking his teeth into the soft skin and claiming Harry, Harry groans loudly, his hips jerking up and both of the gasping when their clothed cocks touch.

"Want you so bad." Zayn breathes against Harry's mouth, the feel of it making Harry dizzy. Zayn lets go of Harry's hips and fumbles with his belt. "So fucking beautiful." 

Zayn's hand reaches to grab Harry's thick leaking cock, the two of them open mouthed against each others lips unable to catch their breath. Harry grabs Zayn shoulders turning them around so Zayn's against the wall, he sinks to his knees and Zayn's breath hitches.

Harry pushes his face into Zayn's crotch breathing in the musky smell intoxicating him, making his dick twitch, he presses sloppy kisses against Zayn's black  _Hugo Boss_  boxers his hands grip his hair as he pulls down his boxers and breathes against his cock.

"Zayn?" 

Harry takes Zayn's cock into his hand and squeezes enough for Zayn to jerk his hips against Harry whilst his head up at the ceiling with his eyes closed.

"Harry." He answers.

"I want you to watch me."

"I can't."

"Please."

Zayn drops his head, his eyes hooded and dark, all traces of hazel gone, he licks his lips and Harry does the same before licking Zayn's cock from the bottom to the tip, making Zayn hiss but look deep into Harry's eyes as he takes him into his mouth.

He sucks sloppily taking him deeper, still staring into Zayn's eyes, not looking away. And just as he asked; Zayn doesn't look away, cursing harshly when Harry would choke, hands tightening in his hair. Harry lets go with a pop to ask Zayn to come in his mouth. Zayn nods feeding his dick back into Harry's pink soft mouth, humming at the sensation.

"Babe, your mouth-"

Suddenly Zayn growls and the warm salty liquid fills Harry's mouth, he swallows obediently, humming around Zayn's cock just enjoying the taste of him. Zayn holds his hands out and picks up Harry, kissing him softly like he might break, the strong taste of Zayn being passed through the two men, Zayn hums as he flicks his tongue against Harry's, hums like he's eaten a mouth-watering piece of apple pie, he groans when he feels Harry's dick hard and wet next to his thigh. Zayn takes Harry's dick into his hand and gently strokes, making Harry's mouth form a perfect  _O_  against Zayn's mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful." Zayn strokes even more slowly, torturing the poor man.

Zayn kisses Harry's open mouth, swallowing Harry's gasps, making his lips raw and dark pink. Zayn tugs harder, mumbling filth in his ears about how he's gonna take him to his bed and fuck him standing up. How Harry's cock feels so good in his hand, how he's gonna make Harry come until he blacks out. Harry lets go, Zayn loves him, fucking adores him, so he'll give Harry everything he has, every pore, every breath, every smile, every strand of hair belongs to Harry. Only Harry.

Harry is coming, hard. He slumps against Zayn's body helplessly. Zayn chuckles, bringing his hand up to Harry's red raw mouth, feeding him his own come.

"Here, babe, take it but don't swallow."

Harry laps it all into his mouth, sucking Zayn's fingers and palm, then holds it his mouth, he opens his mouth to show Zayn. Zayn looks into his mouth before humming.

"Kiss me."

Harry surges forward and kisses Zayn hard, feeding his come into Zayn's mouth who swallows Harry's come and it's the hottest thing Zayn's ever experienced, they continue kissing, searching each other's mouths, nipping gently, kissing softly so the other doesn't disappear.

"I think I like you." Zayn breathes heavily against Harry's lips. His heart thumping against his chest, threatening to jump out. 

Harry nods because he knows, he knows what Zayn really means. 

"Think I like you too, Malik." 

 

\--

 

**TWO YEARS LATER**

 

"Zayn!" 

Zayn opens the door, opening his arms out to welcome his friend. "Louis!"

"I've broken your flowerpots!"

"Ah, Harry will kill you."

"Why are they there in the first place?"

"I don't know, I'm not allowed to ask."

"Ahh, I am indeed dead."

Harry hears his husband and best friend talking, he takes the little two month old girl out of her crib, she snuffles quietly, whimpering before Harry places his pinkie finger in her small hand and Harry swears she smiles. Zayn doesn't believe him, says their daughter is probably constipated. 

Zayn walks back in with Louis who's holding a small gift bag which Harry already knows contains a little stuffed monkey because he knows Louis knows Harry likes bananas and Zayn loves animals. Harry watches Louis look around the room which is covered in oil paintings and some graffiti spray paintings, before settling his eyes onto Harry and a small bundle of pink cotton in his arms. Zayn proudly shuffles next to Harry and the baby, he puts his arms around Harry and proudly presents his family.

"Lou, meet my husband, Harry and my- ow, our,  _our_  little girl; Aliyah." Zayn rubs his side, smiling. 

Harry beams up at Zayn who smiles down at their little girl, cradled in Harry's arms. Louis puts the gift bag down and coos at the little baby, before putting his arms out to hold her. Harry places the small girl in Louis arms.

"Oh, Zayn she looks just like you." Louis grins, Harry cackles but quickly puts his hands on his mouth, Zayn looks at his husband and tries to stifle a giggle.

"Hi, hi little girl, I'm your uncle Louis." 

Louis smiles at both Harry and Zayn who have bags underneath their eyes but seem happy, as Zayn's friend, Louis can finally see that he is happy and he can't help the face splitting grin he gives when Harry leans into Zayn's shoulders.

"Maybe buying that apartment, was one of your greatest achievements."

Zayn smiles as Harry is just about to protest, pulling his husband closer and kisses his cheek softly making Harry blush, he loves how he can still do that to him.

"I think Lou is right, babe, I found you didn't I?" Zayn beams.

"You mean I found you?"

"No, I found you because-"

"But I actually came to the hou-" Harry gets cut off with soft lips gently kissing him, holding his head with Zayn's arms, he hears a Louis muttering a ' _not in front of the baby, Jesus!'_

 

\--

 

"Zayn? Where are you?" Harry calls from downstairs.

Zayn stands with a three year old toddler in his arms behind their bedroom door, hushing her with his fingers, Aliyah giggles, quickly slapping her mouth shut just like her daddy.

"Max, go away!" Zayn whispers at the Yorkshire Terrier who has no clue as to what is going on.

"Ma! go." Aliyah waves her hand in front of the dog, copying her baba.

The dog walks down the stairs, where Zayn hears Harry ask Max where Zayn and his daughter is, like he's expecting the dog to just casually come out and answer his question. Zayn can't help but grin at his daughter and how their plan is working, she grins back, and Zayn swears he sees his mothers smile, which is impossible but it’s true.

They hear Harry walk up the stairs and because Aliyah is so clever, she places her tiny hand on her baba's mouth, pleading with her dark brown eyes to stay quiet. Zayn loves her so much, even from the day he laid eyes on her, her beautiful eyes were the first thing he saw and now he can't forget them. He still remembers the day he and Harry brought her home, Zayn having to hold her because Harry couldn’t stop crying. His eyes red and glazed, like he couldn’t believe his luck. He remembers the nights where he'd wake up in the middle of the night to find his beautiful husband sleeping beside his even more beautiful girl, his head propped up on the side of the wooden crib that Zayn made in an afternoon. He would watch them both, his heart swelling up, his little girl holding her daddy's pinkie finger, both of them breathing heavily. 

"Zayn?" 

Harry's at the door of their bedroom, Zayn feels Aliyahs hand clasp tighter around his mouth, then Zayn nods and they both jump out screaming which causes Harry to topple over and fall onto the floor. Aliyah scrambles to get out of her baba's arm to toddle over to her daddy, her green dress scrunched up.

"Daddy, oof?" Her eyebrows knitted as she touches her daddy's forehead. She looks at Zayn, her lips trembling.

Harry groans, he gets up clasping his head and Zayn falls to the floor, shuffling over to his husband and daughter. Zayn smiles, he knows Harry isn't hurt, but gasps for effect because his daughter thinks her daddy is hurt.

"Ali, my head hurts, I think I might have to go to hospital." Harry rubs the back of his head, Aliyah gasps with her hands on her mouth.

"Hoppi- daddy, no!" She jumps on her daddy to check if he's bleeding, then Harry grabs her, giggling, he tickles her, Aliyah is ticklish so she has no choice but to laugh, Zayn grins, Harry quickly kisses her head and leans over to kiss Zayn but Aliyah pushes him away, toddling over to her baba's lap.

"No!" She slumps into his lap crossing her arms.

"Ali." Harry smiles, Zayn laughs playing his daughters black hair.

"Daddy, fibber!" She pouts and crosses her arms tighter.

"Babe, tell her." Harry pleads.

"Jaan, isn't it daddy's birthday? We have to be extra nice to him today." Zayn reminds Aliyah looking down at her, she looks up, her eyes brightening as if the word  _birthday_  is the best thing in the world. 

She jumps, knowing what to do, toddling off into the next room. Harry looks at Zayn and lifts his head to ask him what's going on, Zayn shrugs his shoulders, pretending he doesn’t know what is going on. Then their daughter waddles in with a present wrapped blue wrapping paper and topped with a white bow. Harry's eyes light up when his daughter hands it to him with a kiss on his cheek, like she and Zayn had practiced. 

"What's this?" Harry holds it up, smiling.

"Open! From me, baba and Ma!" She claps her hands standing in front of Harry.

Harry beams, ripping into the present, gasping to see what's inside. He takes it out of the box to find a frame, a silver frame with a painting, a painting of his family: Zayn, Aliyah and Max. Zayn knows Harry loves his paintings, so what else could he give his husband for his birthday. Harry runs his ringed hand over the glass before placing it over his chest, hugging it tight, smiling with his eyes closed. 

"Ali, I love it! Thankyou, baby." Harry puts the frame down gently, opens his arms for Aliyah to run into. Aliyah giggles running into her daddy's arms. Harry looks at Zayn, tilting his head, Zayn laughs and falls into Harry's arm, the three of them hugging each other on the floor. Harry noses at Zayn's hair to make him look up, Harry smiles down at Zayn, silently thanking him for the present. Zayn leans up and kisses his husband. 

"I think I love you, Mr Styles." Harry whispers into Zayn's lips.

"I think I love you too, Mr Malik." Zayn grins.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi, just a quick update, i hope to be posting Harry's POV. I'm not entirely sure when, but i hope it works out soon!
> 
> come talk to me about this fic here: jawlinesanddimples.tumblr.com :)


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